


Speak of the Devil...

by Todesengel



Series: Steampunk!Seven [5]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:50:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todesengel/pseuds/Todesengel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vin really, really, <i>really</i> should have known better</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak of the Devil...

In general, Vin Tanner is a cautious man. He's deliberate. He thinks things through. He don't act on impulse, and he don't jump feet first into a fire or a gunfight – well, most times he don't, anyway. Sure, he's put his foot in a few hornets' nests in his time, but who ain't? And anyway, at least he's always had the commonsense to run like the dickens after doing so. 

_So why,_ he asks himself as he listens to Josiah babble excitedly at him, _ain't I doin' just that?_

It's a rhetorical question, a'course. He knows damn well why he let himself be talked into being Josiah's latest guinea pig, why he's standing out here decked out in so much boiled leather that he can barely move, and sweatin' more than just standing 'round in the hot desert sun warranted. It's lust, pure and simple, that's drivin' him to ruin – or if not ruin, then surely some sort of damned painful accident. Lust, and he ain't ever been one for the Good Book, but he reckons he understands now why that's a sin, and he resolves that if he gets outta this alive, he ain't never gonna be tempted again. 

He's damn proud he manages to keep that resolve all the way up to picking up the gun. That big, shiny, sleek lookin' gun Josiah done built. That big, shiny, sleek gun, with polished brass inlays and the dark wood stock sanded so fine it's like holdin' satin. That big, shiny, sleek gun that called out to him like the Devil himself from where it lay, all oiled and ready, on Josiah's work bench deep in the gloomy belly of his workshop below the church. That big, shiny, sleek gun that's just beggin' to be lifted, stroked, cradled up snug against his shoulder…

Vin pulls the trigger, and even though he's braced, even though he knows that anythin' Josiah makes has a tendency to go boom, he still ain't even half-prepared for either the gun's recoil or the hellfire noise it makes goin' off. He's on his ass faster than a greenhorn fallin' off a buckin' bronco, and his ears are ringing like he's sittin' right under the damn town bells. His shoulder feels like he's been kicked by a mule, and for a moment he fears that the fact that he can't feel his damn hand means it's been blown clean off. 

But no, there it is, right at the end of his arm where it's s'posed to be and eveythin' appears to be functional even though it's a damn strange feelin' to see his fingers wigglin' and not feel them move. 

Josiah's shadow passes over him and he looks up into the crazy preacher's wild, beaming face. 

"Great!" Josiah roars, passing him a bullet that's at least as long as his index finger, "now let's try firin' it live!"


End file.
